Sometimes A Rough Start Makes For A Good Road
by Lacrimula Falsa
Summary: "I would dearly love for you to stop warping all the metal in my flat at night. Best regards, the telepath living in the flat over yours" "And I'd like to not have a number inked into my forearm. Tough luck. the camp survivor living in the flat under yours" In hindsight, Charles regretted the note. But then, without it, he'd never have met Erik. !ON HIATUS!
1. 01 - Night Terrors

**Sometimes A Rough Start Makes For A Good Road  
**_by Lacrimula Falsa_

**! Please read:**** This story is on hiatus**, awating a major re-write until further notice. If you are new to this story, I would not recommand reading it until the rewrite, as it is incomplete and ends on something of a cliff-hanger. For further information please see chapter eight. Thank you.

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any part of the X-Men universe. Written because of insistent plot bunnies, not to make profit.

_Summary: _"I would dearly love for you to stop warping all the metal in my flat at night. Best regards, the telepath living in the flat over yours" "And I'd like to sleep more than two hours without nightmares and to not have a number inked into my forearm. Tough luck. the camp survivor living in the flat under yours"

In hindsight, Charles regretted the note. But then, without it, he'd never have met Erik. Multi-chapter, AU.

_A/N:_ A horde of plot bunnies is sitting on my brain, apparently. Which is why, while I _should_ be working on my StarTrek, well, _stuff_, I am not. Aaand I'm not even into the X-Men fandom that much _and_ this is _very_ AU and…Argh! (But hey, my writer's block's gone, hooray.)

**Chapter One - Night Terrors**  
_[Charles]_

Charles Xavier was a cheerful person, as everyone who knew him would tell you. Usually.  
He -like most mutants these days- lived in a very nice little flat in the human-free part of the city.  
His day job as a teacher at the local mutant-and-human school paid reasonably well.  
He got along with his neighbours and drank tea at his favourite café every day after work.

However, his cheerful disposition had been suffering the last few days, ever since the flat directly under his had been rented out.

_Clank._

When someone told him the new tenant was a metal bender ("Erik…Something, sounds German."), he'd been more than a little curious, wondering how his powers would look at work.

Seven days -and, more importantly, nights- later, he wondered no longer. And Charles was also no longer _curious_, exactly.

_Screech._

Lying in his bed, wide awake, Charles debated whether he should turn on the light and look which part of his furniture was currently suffering.

He decided he'd know it soon enough, come morning. Or rather, come six o'clock, when his alarm would rouse him after not nearly enough hours of sleep.

The screeching quieted somewhat, and Charles drifted off again.

Only to jerk awake violently not ten minutes later, feeling something cold wrap around his neck.

This, he decided, was _not good_. Fumbling for the lamp on his bedside table, he yelped when his hand hit something hard and smooth that was _not_ the lamp or the table.

Maybe it was his too vivid imagination, but he could have sworn the…thing around his neck tightened.

Panic flaring up in his chest, Charles fumbled around wildly for the lamp, not stopping even as something sharp cut the skin of his wrist.

After what felt like a breathless eternity, he felt the string of the lamp under his fingers.

_Click._

Once his eyes had adjusted to the sudden illumination, Charles was faced with the realisation that there was, in fact, no freezing Boa constrictor wrapping around his neck.

The possibly lethal scarf he was sporting at the moment consisted of part of his metal bed frame. As did the sharp-edged thing that had scratched his wrist.

To his immense relief, the 'loop' around his neck was open to one side, so he could carefully slip his head out.

Still breathing heavily, he got out of bed on unsteady feet and surveyed the scene before him.

His bed frame, while miraculously still intact enough to stand, was bent and twisted almost beyond recognition. It reminded Charles of a giant metal spider laying on it's back, parts of it curling and sticking up like spindly legs.

Gazing around the room, he noticed that the only metal thing left completely undamaged was, ironically, the wheelchair he still hadn't returned to the hospital.

His amusement about that fact was short-lived, though, since the next thing to command his awareness was the fact that his feet were wet.

There was _water_ pooling around his feet.

It took a moment for Charles to connect _water _and _that annoying sound in the background _to _bent and twisted metal_.

Once he did, however, the conclusion '_broken plumbing'_ was inevitable.

Cursing loudly, he all but sprinted into the bathroom.

The bathroom was _flooded._

There were puddles of water everywhere. The bathtub was overflowing. As was the washbasin. The taps of both were lying on the floor, bent completely out of shape.

Charles Xavier was not the kind of man to easily resort to profanity.

But, well, _fuck._

While well aware that his family's riches and his mother's diligence had seen to him receiving an _excellent _education, Charles couldn't help but think that knowing how to turn the water off in a bathroom was something even rich people should be taught.

_Damn it all to hell._

Muttering under his breath, the telepath made his way back into his bedroom-slash-office and went to the telephone on his -thankfully wooden- desk to call someone from _facility management_.

About thirty minutes and a lengthy explanation over the phone later, Charles had managed to turn off the water.

The _facility manager_, or whatever he called himself,most likely thought Charles was a rich, to-stupid-to-live upper class twit.

He would be somewhat right too. At least about the 'rich and to-stupid-to-live' part. The telepath had nearly drowned in his own bathroom. (Or at least he had felt like it.)

He really did not want to think about renovating his bathroom. And possibly his bedroom floor too. At least he was rich enough not to care about how much that would cost.

Sometimes a family fortune, no matter how often he had been sorely tempted to burn all the money, came in quite handy.

Sighing deeply, he went to wring out the towel he had been using to wipe up the puddle of water in the bedroom.

The next thing he knew, Charles was hit by a wave of agony and a sudden flash of smokepain_death_ that literally brought him to his knees.

Blinking slowly, feeling disoriented an dizzy, he got to his feet, very carefully, and took a deep breath.

This, he reminded himself, was neither shocking nor unexpected. His shields tended to slip a little whenever he was in a highly emotional state, or tired. He was certainly both at the moment.

The force of the telepathic impression had surprised him though. There was a special metal alloy built into the walls of the building that 'muffled' all telepathy, to allow the other tenants some privacy and the telepaths some peace of mind.

But then it was _metal_ and looking at the state his metal furniture was in…

Charles took a moment to digest the fact that the thought of his home's walls possibly crumbling around him didn't distress him in the least.

Raven was right. He had no sense of self-preservation.

_Skreeeeeeeeeee… Crack._

That was when the lamp on his desk bent and snapped in half.

He was tolerant. But not that tolerant.

Intellectually, he knew that insufficient control over their powers, especially while sleeping, was something many mutants suffered from.

But that lamp had been a gift from Raven that he knew she had run her feet bloody to get, and that was just too much.

Feeling the need to vent his anger somehow and lacking a better alternative, he snatched up a piece of paper and a pen.

_I would dearly love for you to stop warping all the metal in my flat at night._

_Best regards,  
the telepath living in the flat over yours_

Feeling ridiculously accomplished, the telepath folded the paper in half.

_Now to deliver it._

Once Charles got back from slipping the paper under the metal bender's door, he couldn't help but think that maybe the whole thing with the note was a tad childish and that he should have thought it trough for more than ten seconds.

_Well, too late for that now._

_A/N: _Here's the first part. Next chapter, we meet Erik. Feedback on this would be highly appreciated.


	2. 02 - Guten Morgen

_A/N: _Reader(s), meet Erik, who's having a wonderful morning.

In case I forgot to mention it: _[XY] _means that this part/chapter is from XY's point of view.

* * *

**Chapter Two - ****Guten Morgen*****  
**_[Erik]_

Erik Lehnsherr was not a happy person by default.

He was the kind of person that could scare people off without saying a word. He had repeatedly been suspected of being anything from a drug-lord to a psychopath.

It wasn't that Erik didn't know how to smile. He just usually had no reason to.

And if he _usually_ had no reason to smile, then he certainly had even less reason to smile at the moment, after barely three hours of sleep and a freezing shower because he had apparently warped the plumbing again.

His nightmares had gotten worse, but it wasn't like he could afford therapy. (Not that he wanted to let a stranger poke at his mind in the first place.)

Oh, and he'd run out of coffee. Again. (And money, but then that was nothing new.)

Yes, it was safe to say that Erik Lehnsherr was not in a good mood this Thursday morning.

* * *

When he went to open the door to reluctantly go to work, he noticed a small square of paper in front of his door.

_Curious._

He picked it up and immediately wished he hadn't.

_I would dearly love for you to stop warping all the metal in my flat at night._

_Best regards, _

_the telepath living in the flat over yours_

Erik had to reflexively take a deep breath to avoid shattering something with his powers.

He had ad a bad feeling about living next to a telepath from the beginning. Turned out the feeling had been justified.

_What an ignorant, fascistic…_

Deep breaths.

He firmly reminded himself that driving a metal pole trough people was _not_ a good way to deal with this. (And pointedly ignored the niggling voice in his head telling him that he was just annoyed with his life choices.)

Erik went for the next best alternative.  
He picked up a pen and wrote an answer under the note.

Then he grabbed his coat, slammed the door shut on the way out and headed up the stairs.

* * *

Still smouldering, Erik banged on the door of flat 32.

The door opened.

"Yes?"

The man opening it was really too young to be wearing tweed.

That was all that Erik deigned to register before he shoved the note in the man's face.

"Special delivery. Guten Morgen!"*

With that he pulled the door shut with his powers, not caring if it hit the idiot in the face and took of down the corridor and the stairs.

He was late for work and couldn't afford to get fired.

* * *

_[Charles]_

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

Nearly asleep over his morning tea, it took a moment for Charles to register that someone was banging on his door.

Was the bell not working?

_And at half past six in the morning?_

Bang.

_Good Lord, I'm on my bloody way._

He opened the door.

"Yes?"

His early visitor was furious and a man.

That was all Charles had time to register before a piece of paper was shoved under his nose.

"Special delivery. Guten Morgen!"

Then his own door nearly hit him in the face and he had to take a flailing step back. He slipped and landed on his behind.

Sitting on the floor, a piece of paper in his lap and blinking slowly, Charles wondered what the hell just happened.

* * *

_A/N:_ Lovely first meeting, that. I think I had too much fun nearly hitting Charles with a door.

*"Guten Morgen!" is German for "Good morning!"


	3. 03 - Lose Job, Kill Stranger

_A/N: _I waffled about merging this with the last chapter, because that was rather short, but decided not to.  
This chapter, Charles and Erik both think the same thing… Also, Erik's day gets better and better.

**Warning!:** _Violence _and _death_. Armed assault, some blood. Might be triggering, read at your own discretion.

* * *

**Chapter Three - Lose Job, Kill Stranger  
**_[Charles]_

…_Sitting on the floor, a piece of paper in his lap and blinking slowly, Charles wondered what the hell just happened…_

Almost a minute later, Charles was still sitting on the floor, staring at the paper in his lap without seeing it.

_What on earth had that been about?_

Shaking his head to pull himself together, he took the paper and got back on his feet.

Looking down at the white square, Charles realised it was the note he had written last night.

_Oh._

Turning the paper around, he found that something had been written under his note.

Now it read:

_I would dearly love for you to stop warping all the metal in my flat at night. _

_Best regards,  
the telepath living in the flat over yours_

_And I'd like to sleep more than two hours without nightmares and to not have a number inked into my forearm. Tough luck. _

_the camp survivor living in the flat under yours_

Charles felt like he'd been hit in the stomach and dropped into ice water in the same moment.

He was an idiot.

'_the camp survivor living in the flat under yours'… _Camp survivor. The nomenclature had hit him like a dull knife to the gut.

Charles, being neither ignorant nor uneducated, knew about what was generally called the 'mutant camps', of course.

Secret facilities, run by radical groups of mutant haters and corrupt government officials, where mutants were tortured and experimented on in a mad attempt to '_cure_' them of their powers.

"_Guten Morgen!"…  
_Germany had had quite a few of those camps, usually run by far-right groups that believed in human superiority.

Suddenly the telepathic impression of pain, smoke and death he'd felt last night made sense, too.

The metal bender was having _nightmares_. That was what caused him to lose control over his powers every night.

_You're such an idiot, Charles!_

Actually, more like an insensitive...stupid…obnoxious…

Charles felt the acute need to bang his head against a hard surface. Repeatedly.

He was brought out of bitterly scolding himself by a look at the clock. Sometimes he really loathed his job.

But then, the metal bender had run off anyway, so it wasn't like he could have resolved this right now.  
The telepath decided that the prudent course of action was to get to work now and to try and clean up the mess he'd made after he got home.

* * *

_[Erik]  
_

_What's wrong with me?_

The question had been running through Erik's head ever since he'd arrived at work after his encounter with the tweed-clad telepath.

What on earth had possessed him to reveal his past to a complete stranger?

A _telepathic _complete stranger.

He was such an idiot.

He'd spent _years_ trying to forget his time in the camps, just to moan about it to a neighbour he didn't know in a moment of careless anger.

Erik had to fight the urge to bang his head against a wall every time he thought about that stupid note.

_Damn, damn, damn._

He noticed belatedly that he'd warped the piece of metal he was currently working on beyond recognition.

_Double-damn._

Sighing, he went about straightening it out again.

Only to be interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind him.  
Erik nearly jumped a mile but managed not to. He wasn't used to people being able to sneak up on him.

Peter Callsworthy* was standing behind him, dressed in a grey suit, which wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the nervous, almost…_terrified_ look on the man's face, like he expected Erik to jump him at any moment.

Normally Callsworthy was disgustingly chipper, so Erik was immediately suspicious.

"Callsworthy."

"Erik."

He'd never offered Callsworthy a first name basis, but at the moment that was the least of his concerns.

Callsworthy was shuffling his feet nervously and looked like he really wanted to be anywhere but near Erik.  
Annoyed and more than a little wary, the metal bender finished straightening out the bent work piece and turned to face the other man fully.

"Can I help you?"

"Um, well, I'm afraid I come bearing…bad news."

"Bad news."

There was a moment where the man in the suit seemed to gather his resolve before speaking in a rush.

"You're fired. I'm sorry."

Erik felt strangely numb. Maybe the shock hadn't hit him yet. Maybe he didn't care.

_Or maybe it was just no surprise that his life was going down the drain._

"I'm fired."

"Unfortunately, yes."

Erik straightened and pinned Callsworthy with a sharp gaze. The man took an instinctive step back.

"Who fired me?"

"Masters*."

Masters. Of course.

"And why?"

"Because…" The grey-suited man seemed to debate whether he should tell Erik something.

"Because?"

Callsworthy fiddled with his cufflinks, looking at the metal bender like a mouse would look at a cat poised to strike.

"Because he thinks mutants are dangerous. He's afraid of you."

Erik blinked.

"He knows he can't fire me because I'm a mutant." The newly established laws against mutant discrimination had made sure of that.

"Officially he's firing you because the company has to reduce it's workforce. Economy measures."

Erik grit his teeth.

"And of course the mutants have to go first."

"Yes. Look, I'm sorry Erik, but he told me to tell you to get your belongings and leave the premises immediately."

"Even if I'm fired the company would still owe me…"

"I know, I know, you'll get everything you have a right to by your contract."

"Then I guess this is goodbye."

"Yeah. Goodbye Erik. We'll miss you here."

Erik resisted the urge to laugh and narrowly avoided Callsworthy clapping him on the shoulder.

He turned around and started walking to his locker.

* * *

Erik was on his way to the underground station, taking a shortcut trough a sparsely-lit alleyway, when suddenly something hard and small was pressed between his shoulder blades.

He immediately cursed his inattentiveness. This was the second person to sneak up on him today.

And this one was holding a gun to his back.

The moment his powers told him the object touching his back was a weapon, it was like someone had thrown a switch in Erik's brain.

He reached out with his mutant senses, feeling a small piece of metal tucked under the person's belt.

_Knife._

There was no rational thought after that, just some kind of instinct.

Erik pulled out the metal blade and rammed it into the attacker's back.

Then he twisted around, shoved the person away from himself and used his mutation to shoot them with their own gun.

It all happened so fast that the metal bender barely registered his own movements.  
He came back to himself just as the attacker's dead body hit the pavement.

Erik stood stock-still, frozen in shock.

Stretched out on his back before him, in a growing puddle of blood, was a boy. Clearly no more than six- or seventeen years old, dressed in what looked like cheap second-hand clothes.

He had just killed a child.

* * *

Erik ran.

He ran the three underground stations back to the residential building.  
Then he ran into the house and up to his flat.  
He didn't bother with the lock and just ripped the door open by the metal handle.

The metal bender only stopped once he was inside the flat and had slammed the door shut.

Breathing heavily, he stared at his reflection in the mirror over the dresser with unseeing eyes.

_I didn't touch the gun. No one will know that I shot him. I didn't touch the knife._

It felt strangely like the thoughts running trough his head weren't his own.

Feeling hollow, numb and altogether disconnected from his body, Erik checked his shoes and clothes for blood. They were clean.

_Good. It's all good. I didn't touch the weapons. I didn't touch the body. There's no blood on me. No one will know. There's nothing that leads to me. They won't know it was me. It's all good._

But under the layer of these thoughts playing in an endless loop in his head, there was the frantic, panicked realisation that it was _not_ good. That _nothing _was good, that nothing would ever be good again, because he'd just killed a child.

Erik wanted to scream, to shake his head and tear his hair out.

But all he could do was to numbly stare at his hands, watching as a red stain spread over his wrists and fingers.  
The imaginary blood filled his cupped hands, spilling over and dripping to the floor, staining the wood red.

Everything went black.

* * *

_A/N: _Cue the ominous music. Someone asked for a longer chapter, I hope this is long enough.

(*Peter Callsworthy and Whatever-his-first-name-is Masters are original characters I created. Any similarities to existing people, whether alive, fictional or dead are completely coincidental.)

_07 December 2014: _Thank you_ MissMelysse _for catching the mistakes my spellchecker didn't.


	4. 04 - Nosy Shapeshifting Sisters

_A/N: _Thank you for all the encouraging reviews. They always make my day. :)

In this chapter we meet Raven. And Charles is embarrassed.

* * *

**Chapter Four - Nosy Shapeshifting Sisters  
**_[Charles]_

After his work day was _finally_ over - and he had managed another special lesson about mutation control without strangling a variety of students - Charles thoughts turned back to the subject of the note and how to fix the mess that had ensued.

Considering, he stopped in front of a street vendor selling flowers. Maybe a nice bouquet as an "I'm sorry" gift?

Before he could follow that train of thought, someone tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

He turned around, just to have a complete stranger in a boiler suit kiss him on the cheek.

Feeling his face heat up, Charles was just about to tell the man that this had to be some kind of misunderstanding, when the man's skin rippled and turned blue.

He nearly dropped his bag.

"Raven! I nearly had a heart attack. I told you not to do that."

His sister's blue face split into a grin.

"But you're adorable when you're flustered."

Charles sputtered, cheeks reddening further.

"I am not _adorable._ I'm an adult! And a professor."

Raven just reached over and pinched his cheek.

"Adorable."

The telepath hmpf-ed and batted her hand away.

"Sooo…" _Uh-oh. _"Getting flowers for someone?"

"Um." _Damn all nosy shapeshifting sisters. _What was he supposed to say to that? 'I thought I'd get some flowers for my neighbour that I've somehow managed to insult before we ever met who most likely things I'm an insensitive idiot?' Certainly not.

"Oooh, my brother got himself a girlfriend!" Raven's whole face lit up. She looked like Christmas had come early.

Wait, what?

"No!"

Her expression turned dangerously sly.

"So it's a boyfriend then?"

Charles gaped at her.

"No! I'm not even…Why would you think…I've never even…Erik's not my anything!"

"Erik, hm? Already found out your crush's first name then, good job."

_All right_, so his sister was totally misinterpreting the situation. Great.

Before he could say anything to correct her though, Raven started chattering away happily.

"So what's he like? I bet he's hot. Well, of course he is, you always crush on the hot people. Got an accent hasn't he? I know you told me you didn't like Stella just because of her accent but you totally did, I could tell. Tall and lean I guess, you always go for the tall people. At least taller than you. But okay, everybody is, you're short…"

"Raven."

"Do I know him? Oh, wait, is it that new waiter at the café you always go to? Really, you should have told me, I could totally get you his number. I think he's straight though, I saw him flirting with a girl…"

"Raven!"

"Okay, maybe not the waiter, he looks like, I don't know, fifteen, that would be gross. A mutant maybe? I bet he's got a very _groovy _mutation, right? Though if you used…"

"RAVEN!"

"Huh, what?"

Charles heaved a sigh. His sister would never let this go.

"Raven, I'm not crushing on Erik. I don't even know him. I saw him for maybe five seconds. And I only call him Erik because I don't know his last name. He's my neighbour, he rented the flat under mine. And yes, he's a mutant. He also thinks I'm an idiot."

Raven looked disappointed, then her expression turned thoughtful.

"Well that's too bad. If he thinks you're an idiot it will be harder to set you up with him. Also…how can he think you're an idiot if you met for five seconds? I mean that's a record even for you."

Charles decided to ignore the insult and focus on her more worrying statement.

"Raven, why do you want to set me up with him? Also…Erik's a man."

"I know he's a man, you twit. That's why I want to set you up with him."

She rolled her eyes at his blank look.

"Look little brother, I tried to set you up with _twelve_ women. It didn't work. So maybe I need to try with a man."

_Oh._

That would explain why all those girls his sister had introduced as new friends of hers had completely ignored her to flirt with him. And that also meant…

"You think my type is _shallow, busty and blonde_?!"

"Well in my defence, I also thought you were straight. I'm also pretty sure at least two of them were redheads."

_What sins did I commit to deserve my sister? _

"Raven dear, I love you very much, but _please_ stop trying to play matchmaker."

"Well but you need to get laid."

That sent Charles spluttering again, his face turning scarlet.

"Raven! We're in the middle of the street."

"That doesn't negate the facts."

_~As much as I probably don't want to know, please tell me why you're so invested in my sex life.~_

This was really not something he wanted to discuss in the street surrounded by people, but he was also morbidly curious. Telepathic communication afforded at least _some_ privacy.

_~I'm invested in your sex life because you have none. You're a red-blooded male in your prime, Charles, and you're wearing _tweed._ Tweed! For goodness sake…_tweeeeed_, Charles. Not even corduroys, _tweed._ If that's not a warning sign I don't know one.~_

"This is about my _clothes_?!"

"It's about your clothes _and_ the fact that you've not dated someone in _forever_. Seriously, little brother, you're a nun."

Charles sometimes wondered how he got involved into this kind of conversation.

"If anything I'd be a monk. I'm also older than you."

"Well you behave like a blushing schoolboy."

"You're one to talk! I wasn't the one who threw a tantrum when I told you that you were to old for a doll."

"Don't you dare bring Sally into this!"

Sensing dangerous territory, Charles cast about for a different topic.

"Don't you want to know why my neighbour thinks I'm an idiot?"

Raven shot him an 'I'll only let you get away with this because I'm curious'-look and folded her arms.

"All right, why does he think you're an idiot?"

It dawned on him a little too late that maybe loosing control over one's powers was a somewhat personal subject. He decided to go with an abridged version of events.

"I might have…overreacted to something in form of a rather rude note."

"Okay…and what did he do?"

"He wrote a reply and shoved it in my face. That was when we met for five seconds."

"Uh-huh."

Raven clearly thinks that that's not the whole story, but has apparently decided not to pry. Charles thanks his lucky stars.

"So you were an idiot and now you want to get him flowers."

"Maybe. I'm not sure. Do you think I should get him flowers?"

"Sure, if you want to raise the awkward level to the moon."

"So you think it's a bad idea."

"Yes, idiot. I mean seriously, you don't get someone you've met for five seconds _flowers_. Especially not a guy."

"So what do _you_ suggest I do?"

"Knock on his door, apologise, take him to a nice little restaurant, spend an amazing night together, get engaged and then I can finally wear that dress I bought for your wedding."

Charles just stared.

"On second thought, flowers could be productive."

Before her brother had a chance to say _anything_, Raven started waving to someone, looking over his shoulder.

"Hey Carrie! Hello, over here. Carrie!" She turned to Charles. "Sorry little brother, got to run, that's Carrie and I _really _need to give a book back to her, I've had it borrowed for ages. See you later!"

Then she dashed off, leaving the telepath to stare at the spot she had vacated.

Charles shook his head.

_Well, that was singularly unhelpful. _

…

But then, maybe not.

Maybe his sister was right. Not on the 'take him to a nice little restaurant et cetera' part, obviously, but her suggestion to just apologise wasn't so bad.

Yes, maybe just apologising would be the best way to fix the situation.

Plan formulated, Charles started walking home.

* * *

_A/N: _Filler chapter, because of plot bunnies and an acute need to sort out my various ideas for the actual plot. I hope you enjoyed this anyway. More Raven, anyone?


	5. 05 - How Is This My Life

**Warning!: **Some blood, _past violence_ and _death_. Nothing that will shock you if you've read chapter three.

* * *

**Chapter Five - How Is This My Life  
**_[Erik]_

…_The imaginary blood filled his cupped hands, spilling over and dripping to the floor, staining the wood red.  
Everything went black…_

The first thing Erik notices is that he is laying on the floor.

The second is that he has no idea whatsoever as to how he got there.

_All right, I'm on the floor. And I was unconscious, apparently. That's…_

He didn't know what that was. Erik decided he would figure it out after he'd gotten into a vertical position.

That turned out to be a bad idea.

The moment he got to unsteady feet, he felt nauseous and barely managed to reach the bathroom before he was sick.

* * *

After the retching and dry heaving had abated, no small amount of confusion set in.

What the hell had happened that ended with him on the floor with no idea how he even got _home_ not to mention down on said floor?

Erik went trough the most likely options.

Drinking? No. He was reasonably certain he'd remember getting drunk.  
Drugs? He was occasionally self-destructive, but not _stupid._ So no.

Had he hit his head? That might explain the nausea…

Something stirred at the back of his mind, prompting him to find out what time it was.

The metal bender checked his watch.

…

Why on earth wasn't he at work?

_Wait…_

He'd lost his job. Callsworthy had told him he was fired. Mason had fired him because he was a mutant…

Erik frowned.

But what had happened after he left the company building to go home?

Still frowning, he mad a motion to turn on the faucet to rinse his mouth, just to knock over the open bottle of pomegranate soap that he never remembered to throw out.

Cursing, he righted the bottle with one hand, trying to shake the thick red liquid of the other.

Really, why was that bottle even still _there_? He hated the smell of that stuff and honestly it looked like…

_Blood. Deep red blood, seeping out of the bullet wound and staining the boy's cheap, worn-down clothes. The gun clattering useless to the asphalted ground._

_Running. Thoughtless running. Running even as his sides ached an he couldn't draw a full breath anymore._

_Ripping open the door to his flat…_

Nein. Allmächtiger Gott nein.*

He'd killed a child.

He'd _killed a child!_

The boy that looked no older than seventeen…

Breathing rapidly, flecks of light dancing before his eyes, it was all Erik could do not to faint again.

He was rather certain there was a panic attack headed his way.

_Deep breaths, Erik, deep breaths._

The doorbell rang.

Erik would wonder to his dying day _why_ \- and more importantly _how_ \- in that moment, he went to open the door like nothing was wrong.

* * *

The man on his doorstep was wearing tweed but was clearly under sixty.

The metal bender had the feeling that this fact was somehow relevant, but was really to occupied with staying conscious and on his feet to give it much thought.

"Can I…help you?"

The man's eyebrows hit his hairline. He blinked at Erik somewhat owlishly.

"I think the question should be can _I _help _you_. You don't look too well, my friend."

Erik got out an incredibly eloquent "Huh?".

He knew he should be focussing on the conversation, because paying attention was kind of important when talking to people, but really, the swaying floor and unnaturally bright colours were distracting.

Also, his vision was getting somewhat fuzzy around the edges.

He became dimly aware of fingers snapping in front of his face.

_Snap._

"Hey."

_Snap snap._

"Hello!"

_Snap snap snap._

"Erik!"

_I know my name, stupid…_

"Erik. Erik. Erik, goddamit, stay awake!"

"Mmmawake…"

"Like hell you are. Come on, stay …"

Erik passed out again.

* * *

_[Charles]_

_Hello, I'm your stupid telepathic neighbour… _No. Just no.

_I _really_ just wanted to apologise…_ This was getting ridiculous.

Still standing before the closed door of flat 22 after ten solid minutes of playing 'what could I say that won't sound completely stupid' with his shadow, Charles felt like bashing his own head in with a club.

_Just. Ring. The Bell._

It wasn't like the situation could get worse, was it?

All right, take a deep breath, press the button. Easy.

_Riiiing._

After a moment, the telepath could hear someone approaching the door, before it was all but ripped open.

The man opening the door looked about two seconds from fainting. He was pale and swaying on his feet, barely staying upright by the looks if it. And…

_Is that _blood_ on his hand?!_

Charles' first thought was that he'd somehow stumbled into a horror film.

The second one was if the man was injured and why he looked so…bad.

Worry creeping into his mind, Charles instinctively tried using his telepathy to find out what had happened.

Just to do the telepathic equivalent of slamming face first into a metal wall.

…_the heck?_

Charles blinked at his neighbour.

_How odd…_

He couldn't read the man at all. That had definitely never happened before.

_Even telepaths usually don't shield this completely._

"Can I…help you?"

_Oh right, people may talk to you. Welcome on Earth Charles._

Even if they sounded somewhat drunk doing so.

"I think the question should be can _I _help _you_. You don't look too well, my friend."

And really, he didn't. If of the nature to be impolite, Charles would have said the metal bender looked like shit.

"Huh?"

The man, Charles concluded, was clearly not in full possession of his mental faculties at the moment.

_How is this my life?_

He tried snapping his fingers in front of the man's eyes.

No reaction whatsoever.

"Hey."

Nothing. He snapped again.

"Hello!"

_Snap snap snap._

The man was swaying dangerously now and his eyes were losing focus.

_This is beyond weird, I still don't know his last name._

"Erik!"

Charles decided to try shaking the man.

"Erik. Erik. Erik, goddamit, stay awake!"

"Mmmawake..."

_Wide awake, certainly._

"Like hell you are. Come on, stay …"

That was when the metal bender apparently decided to faint for good. Charles barely managed to keep him from hitting the floor.

_Great. Wonderful. Absolutely fantastic. … Okay, he's definitely heavier than he looks._

Seriously, were his bones made of metal, or what?

"Help!"

Really, he could use some help here.

"Help! Hello? I've got an unconscious person here! Hellooo! Anyone?"

_There's probably no one in the whole goddamn building. Dear goodness, my neighbour could stand to lose some weight…_

"Hello? Anyone? Anyone at all? Cassandra? Hello!"

_Hello, I'm collapsing here…_

Seeing as there was no help forthcoming, the telepath decided to try get the man on a bed, couch, or whatever flat surface that wasn't the floor was available.  
He really didn't want to end up on the floor with his neighbour on top of him. And not only because he could already imagine Raven's lewd comment.

* * *

* "Nein. Allmächtiger Gott nein." means "No. Almighty God no."


	6. 06 - A Tweed Pillow Named Charles

_**Disclaimer:**_ I still do not own any part of the X-Men universe. I also do not own any part of the music by Marcy Playground. I make no profit from writing this and I don't even try.

* * *

**Chapter Six - A Tweed Pillow Named Charles  
**_[Charles]_

Trough a gargantuan effort, Charles had somehow managed to drag his metal bending neighbour to the man's sofa.

He had _not_, however, managed to get out from under the man, who'd somehow ended up halfway in his lap while he tried to manoeuvre him onto said sofa.

_This is weird. _

Somehow he was thinking that a lot today.

When his pocket started playing the chorus of "Shapeshifter", Charles jumped.

Raven. Impeccable timing, as always.

It was somewhat difficult to reach his mobile with the metal bender still half on top of him, but he managed to get it out and to his ear somehow.

"Yes."

"Have you slept with him yet?"

"What?!"

"Your hot neighbour with the groovy mutation. _Erik_."

"Raven, I swear, if the first thing you say when calling me is 'have you slept with him yet' I will never answer the phone again unless the world is ending."

"You didn't answer my questiooon!"

_Sigh._

"Raven."

"Chaaarles."

"Raven, please tell me you didn't call me just to question me about my sex life."

"Your non-existent sex life."

"Raven, _please_."

"Tweeed, little brother, _tweed. _And no, I didn't call you to ask about your sex life. I called you to ask if you've apologised yet."

"Um…sort of?"

"Charlesyyy!"

"No."

"Why not?"

_Because he opened the door looking like hell and then passed out._

"I just got home."

"Liar."

_Is telepathy contagious?_

"I didn't have the time. I had grading to do."

"Uh-huh. _Grading_."

"Grading. Yes."

"And where are you now?"

_On my neighbour's sofa. With said neighbour still passed out in my lap._

"On the sofa."

"Your sofa?"

_No._

"Yes."

"Alone."

_I should stop lying to my sister._

"Yes."

Of course that was when the man in his lap groaned and shifted, elbowing him in the stomach in the process.

"Ouch."

"You're not alone."

"I just hit my knee on the leg of my desk."

"I thought you were on your sofa."

"Did I say desk? I meant coffee table."

"Charles, there's no coffee table _anywhere_ in your flat. Also, it's okay if there's someone with you, you know. You're allowed to have friends."

"It's not a _friend_, exactly."

"If you're trying to tell me you're gay, I promised I'll be neither surprised nor angry."

"What?!"

"You know that's nothing to be ashamed of, right? Right?"

In a different situation Charles might have appreciated his sisters concern. At the moment…not so much.

"I know! But I'm not trying to tell you I'm gay. How is this about my sexuality all of a sudden?"

_I mean really. This feels like a bad sitcom._ Not that he watched any.

"Well, you said it's not a _friend_, so unless you take home male strangers…"

"I don't…"

The metal bender shifted again, nearly hitting a rather _sensitive_ area this time. Charles winced.

"Um…Raven, I have to hang up now. I'll call you later."

"What? Why? Charles, what's going on? You can't just…"

"Goodbye Raven."

He hung up.

Looking down at his neighbour, he found that the man was awake and looking at him somewhat strangely.

_What does one say in a situation like this? 'Good morning'?_

"Who's Raven?"

_Well, apparently not._

* * *

_[Erik] _

When Erik woke up, with a massive headache and the sound of static filling his ears, his first thought was that the position he was in was supremely uncomfortable.

He was half draped over…his couch maybe? And his head was lying on what felt like a somewhat lumpy and rather hard…tweed pillow?

_Tweed pillow? What the…_

He shifted around a little, eyes still closed, until his elbow hit…something.

_Huh?_

It was hard to make out anything over the buzzing in his ears, but he could have sworn his couch had just said "ouch".

_Since when is my couch able to talk?_

Now that he was paying attention…there was _definitely _someone talking. And it _definitely _wasn't his couch.

_Am I laying…in someone's lap? _

What. The. Hell.

He shifted a little more, trying and failing to get into a marginally less awkward position. He didn't quite dare to open his eyes and face the situation just yet.

The buzzing in his ears was thankfully subsiding, so he was just able to make out the next thing the person he was using as a pillow was saying.

"Um…Raven, I have to hang up now. I'll call you later."

And then a moment later:

"Goodbye Raven."

Erik braved opening his eyes.

_Oh. God._

He might not associate the man's face with anything, but he would recognise the old man's clothes anywhere.

He was laying in the lap of his neighbour. _The _neighbour.

The telepathic neighbour he'd told about his past.

_Oh, and let's not forget that the last time we met I shoved a piece of paper _and_ nearly slammed a door in his face._

Could someone kill him please?

Aaand the man was looking at him. Great.

His brain was apparently still processing, because he blurted out the first thing that he could think of.

"Who's Raven?"

The telepath blinked.

"My sister."

"Aha."

There was a long, _very _awkward pause.

After a small eternity where neither of them could think of something to say, Erik's neighbour cleared his throat.

"Would you -um- mind, um…getting up, maybe?"

Erik was momentarily distracted by the fact that the man's blush was ridiculously endearing, so it took him a moment to register the actual words.

"Oh yeah, right. Sorry."

He hastily scrambled to get up, elbowing the man in the stomach. Again.

"Sorry."

"No problem. I'm getting used to it."

"Um..."

"Ignore my weird sense of humour. Raven says I'm the only one that understands it. Also, this is odd."

"Extremely."

"I still don't know your name. Well, your last name."

_And why exactly do you know my first name?_

"Erik Lehnsherr."

"Charles Xavier."

The man -_Mister Xavier-_ thankfully refrained from extending a hand.

"So. Not to pry, but would you mind telling me why you passed out after opening the door?"

Erik opened his mouth to answer…

…just to realise that he had no idea.

But then, he didn't remember fainting. He'd been…in the bathroom?

"I…actually don't know. I was…in the bathroom I think."

He'd actually considered lying, but with a telepath that would be pointless. Not to mention make the situation _even worse_. So, not really worth it.

"Are you injured?"

At Erik's blank look Xavier elaborated.

"There's blood on your hand."

The metal bender looked down at his hands. Then he raised them to his face and sniffed.

"Pomegranate soap."

"Oh. Well, at least you're not bleeding."

"Yes, that's fantastic."

"And people say _I _am sarcastic."

There was another lapse in the conversation.

"We should look in the bathroom."

_What now? Xavier wanted to see what colour the tiles were?_

"Sorry?"

"It might give us a clue as to what happened to make you fall unconscious."

That actually made sense. And really, it wasn't like this could get stranger.

"This way."

* * *

The bathroom smelled revolting. Erik tried not to gag. The soap had been bad enough _inside_ the bottle.

His neighbour walked in after him, frowning at the spilled soap.

"If you want to hear my theory, I think you slipped on the soap and hit your head."

He really had no better theory, so he just nodded.

He also decided he would clean the bathroom floor later and ushered the telepath back into the living room. He followed after washing his hands.

There was another lengthy pause, before something occurred to Erik.

"Mister Xavier…"

"Charles."

"Sorry?"

"Please call me Charles." The telepath cringed. "Mister Xavier was my father."

"Well I guess then you can call me Erik. It would be extremely odd if I used your first name and you called me 'Mister Lehnsherr'."

_I also passed out in front of you and woke up in your lap, so._

"Thank you Erik."

Coming from anyone else, that might have sounded sarcastic. Coming from Mister…_Charles_, it didn't.

"Don't mention it."

Beat.

"So, Charles, why where you at my door, exactly?"

Charles was blushing again. He also looked fidgety and uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"I, um, well, you see. I, ah, really just wanted to apologise. About that note. That you, um, shoved in my face. It was stupid. And very rude. And totally uncalled for. Not just because of, ah, your answer. So. Um."

_Another preconception about telepaths out the window. They don't_ always_ know exactly what to say._

Erik had also not expected an apology. Maybe his neighbour was no _complete_ idiot.

He knew he really should stay on his guard around Charles, because the man was a damn _telepath_, but that was proving rather hard to accomplish when the man looked like a contrite boy that had been caught stealing biscuits.

"Apology accepted. Also, I'd be thankful if we could just never mention that note again. I don't usually tell my life story to random strangers."

Charles looked perplexed for a second, but then he nodded.

"Of course."

_**Ooh, well maybe they... should not have  
Been quite so bold... to test me  
For I am the Shape...shifter  
And I'll have my revenge**_*

Erik nearly jumped out of his skin. Charles jumped too and then promptly looked apologetic.

"That's my mobile. My sister. Excuse me."

* * *

_A/N: _Yes, Erik is able to identify fabric just by laying on it. It's a secondary mutation. … No seriously, I know it's unrealistic, but I _really_ wanted to include it. Poetic licence, ahem.

*Charles ring tone for Raven is the chorus of the song "Shapeshifter" by Marcy Playground, for obvious reasons. You can find it on YouTube.

Thank you for reading. Reviews warm my heart.


	7. 07 - Pain

**Chapter Seven - Pain**  
_[Charles]_

"So, Charles, why where you at my door, exactly?"

Charles could feel his cheeks heating. The metal bender fainting and the strangeness that had ensued had effectively distracted him from the original purpose of this visit.

_How do I phrase this so I don't sound like an idiot…_

"I, um, well, you see. I, ah, really just wanted to apologise. About that note. That you, um, shoved in my face. It was stupid. And very rude. And totally uncalled for. Not just because of, ah, your answer. So. Um."

_Congratulations, Charles. That's how we _don't_ do it._

"Apology accepted. Also, I'd be thankful if we could just never mention that note again. I don't usually tell my life story to random strangers."

Charles felt rather stupefied. Not only because the other's response had thrown him, but also because the metal bender apparently saw no reason to apologise for nearly hitting him with a door.

… On the other hand, he'd kind of deserved that.

"Of course."

_**Ooh, well maybe they... should not have  
Been quite so bold... to test me  
For I am the Shape...shifter  
And I'll have my revenge**_

Charles jumped. Erik looked like his first reflex was to draw a weapon.

_Raven. One of these days she'll kill me by giving me a heart attack._

He got out a hasty "That's my mobile. My sister. Excuse me." before turning away from Erik to answer the phone.

He didn't even get the chance for a 'hello' before his sister was effectively shouting in his ear.

"Charles! You can't just hang up on me because your lover wakes up!"

Charles nearly dropped his mobile.

"My _what_?! And why are you shouting?"

"I'm at a party! WAIT I'LL GO OUTSIDE!"

He ripped the phone away from his ear to preserve his hearing. He glared at the device in lieu of his sister.

_Dear goodness, does she want me to go deaf?_

After a moment he cautiously put the device to his ear again.

"Raven?"

"Yeah sorry, I'm outside now. Now, who's that mystery lover of yours?"

"Mystery…I hang up on you and that's the conclusion you come to?"

"Not really. Wait, am I_ right _!?"

_Sigh._

"No."

"Damn. Okay, tell me what really happened!"

"Yes your majesty."

"Charles."

"Raven."

"_Charles._"

He caught Erik shooting him a strange look.

"Look Raven, it's not a good time right now, I was talking to someone. I'll call you back."

"Charles, don't you dare hang…"

He hung up. And shut off his mobile just to be safe.

Then he turned back to Erik.

"My apolo…"

His neighbour was no longer looking at him. He was staring into space, completely oblivious to Charles' presence.

_All right…he hit his head harder than I thought._

"Erik." He lightly tapped the man's shoulder.

The metal bender started and for a split second Charles almost feared that he would have to doge an attack, but then Erik's eyes focused on him.

"Charles."

"Oh good, you're with me again. You spaced out there for a moment. Are you all right? It's not good if you space out after you hit your head. Maybe you should see a doctor? You could have a concussion. And considering you fainted…"

He trailed of when he noticed his neighbours absent expression.

"Erik?"

Erik looked up sharply.

"Yes. Yes, I think I'll do that. Good idea."

The metal bender looked and sounded extremely distracted all of a sudden.

Charles instinctively tried to read the man's surface thoughts, just to hit that strange mental wall again.

_Oh. That's it._

Suddenly he understood why Erik's flat had felt unusually quiet to him. Because _Erik _was unusually quiet. At least mentally.

"Charles, I think you should go. Now."

Charles barely has time to process being spoken to before Erik has grasped his forearm and is all but dragging him to the door. It feels like he is unconsciously pulling on all the metal Charles is wearing as well.

Then Erik is pushing him trough the door non too gently.

"Charles, it was nice meeting you. Have a nice day."

The door slammed shut an inch from his nose. That seemed to be a theme.

_What on earth…He could just have told me to leave._

Really, he had no desire to stay where he was unwanted.

Somewhat perplexed and more than a little annoyed, Charles trudged back to his flat.

* * *

_[Erik]_

…"_That's my mobile. My sister. Excuse me."…_

When Charles answered the phone, Erik decided to just give him a moment like a normal, _civil_ person and not to crush the damn thing that had him jumping a mile when it went off.

That turned out to be a good decision, if only because his neighbour nearly dropping his mobile seconds after answering it with a stunned expression was a hilarious sight.

"My _what_?! And why are you shouting?"

It only got better once Charles ripped the phone away from his ear, glaring at the thing like it had insulted his mother.

After a moment he gingerly put the device near his ear again.

"Raven?"

The person on the other end seemed to say something. Charles looked halfway between annoyed and fondly exasperated.

"Mystery…I hang up on you and that's the conclusion you come to?"

"No."

The telepaths expression went from fondly exasperated to annoyed.

"Yes your majesty."

"Raven."

Erik immediately labels this the 'no-nonsense-I'm-your-brother' voice.

"Look Raven, it's not a good time right now…"

He didn't catch the rest of what Charles said, because suddenly pain shot trough his head.

It felt like someone had thrust a lance through his skull. A sensation he was unfortunately familiar with.

_Verflucht.* _Why did this have to happen _now _?

Erik had no time to ruminate on the universe apparently hating him, because he was suddenly hyperaware of all the metal in the vicinity, right down to the metal dust clinging to his clothes.

He knew that this was when it got critical.

Trying to keep calm, he got a hold of the part of him that wanted to reach out and tried to force it inward.

It felt like his veins were on fire and something was splitting his skull. He tried to push the pain away and forced himself to breathe, even though the air felt like it was scorching his throat.

Afterwards he always wondered how he stayed upright.

When the first wave subsided, he became aware of someone touching his shoulder.

Erik almost lashed out with the power still pulsing under his skin, before his brain luckily kicked in to remind him that the person touching him was his neighbour.

"Charles."

"Oh good, you're with me again. You spaced out there for a moment. Are you all right? It's not good if you space out after you hit your head. Maybe you should see a doctor?…"

Erik stopped paying attention, to focused on not crushing every piece of metal in the room.

"Erik?"

Erik looked up sharply. He had to get the telepath out of the room.

"Yes. Yes, I think I'll do that. Good idea."

He felt his awareness of the metal all around spiking again.

"Charles, I think you should go. Now."

Foregoing all socially acceptable behaviour in the face of sudden panic, he simply grabbed the man by the arm and bodily dragged him towards the door before shoving him through it.

"Charles, it was nice meeting you. Have a nice day."

Then he slammed the door shut and melted the lock.

He barely managed not to melt the metal in the walls with it.

Once he heard footsteps outside the door, Erik allowed his vice grip on his powers to loosen somewhat.

Then the metal bender sunk to the floor and allowed the pain to flood him, already feeling the metal around him bend and shift.

* * *

Just outside the flat above Erik's, Charles stopped in his tracks. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and frowned when the screen stayed dark.

Of course. He'd shut it off.

_I could have sworn I felt it vibrating._

Shrugging, he unlocked the door.

_Maybe wearing tweed makes you senile._

* * *

* "Verflucht." means "Damn."


	8. ON HIATUS

**Please read:**

I know that posting author's notes that are not accompanied by 'actual fic' is frowned upon here on . But it has been almost one year and a half, and it's time to fess up.

**This story is now officially on hiatus**, awaiting a major re-write until further notice.

Yes, I realise that that sucks. Yes, I realise that that is really unfair to the people who have read this story, followed it and left all those lovely comments.

But I am human, and I make mistakes. My mistake with this story was not to see a plothole the size of Chicago until I was seven chapters in. This story has not been updated since 2014, and I still have no idea how to fix the plothole I just mentioned. I have since accepted that the only way to "fix" this story is to rewrite it completely.

There are two reasons why I will not be doing that in the foreseeable future:

1) I have no idea what to do instead of my original plot, which is not really salvageable.

2) I am no longer as invested in the X-Men fandom as I once was. As you might have noticed I still occasionally post one-shots and drabbles for this fandom, but my major focus is on StarTrek and the Marvel Cinematic Universe at the moment. I cannot say if and when that might change again, but chances are high that it eventually will.

(I also have quite a few other WIPs.)

If I would choose to rewrite this story despite those reasons, what you would get is a story written by an unwilling, uninspired author with a poorly cobbled-together plot. And you deserve better fics than that. That is why I am putting this fic on hiatus.

I can only apologise, and hope that I have readers who can accept that I am human and that I also write for free, as a hobby, which means sometimes I will make mistakes like this. And that I would rather put a story on hiatus indefinitely than give you some poorly written thing just so I can say "see I rewrote it you can't complain now". I don't want to be that kind of author.

_I plan to eventually rewrite this story_, as I like some of the ideas I had for it. _But when I rewrite it I will do it properly, in a way that results in a better, well-made story._

Until then, thank you for reading this, and I am sorry to disappoint.


End file.
